The Darkling Child
by LightningRapunzel
Summary: Companion fic to Two Hearts, Two Renegades. The story of how Deorsa became his fate. And how he found himself as Aidan.
1. Preface

It was after she had left that Deorsa's smile faded. Already he missed her, and she'd only just gone.

The TARDIS sensed his sadness, and warmed his soul with her wordless concern.

"I'm alright," he soothed her. "Well, I will be. When have I not recovered?"

If she could, the TARDIS would have raised an eyebrow. Her scepticism was plain, and he groaned.

"Fine! I know I never got over her before. But this will be different. A new start. I can leave her with him. Now I know she's safe - and that I cannot harm her - I will not worry so much. I know she'll be protected."

More scepticism.

Frustration gripped his mind, and he glared at the console.

"What do you want me to admit? That I love her? That I'd _die_ for her? Well, I _would_! And _there's_ your confession! Are you happy?"

The TARDIS hurried to placate him, but he backed away, throwing his hands up.

"No."

Hurt swathed him, and guilt shot through him even as he turned his back.

Without another word, he walked away.

He didn't even realise where he was going until he arrived.

A bitter twisting of his mouth broke his face, as he drank in the room, and gently he fingered the long blue scarf draped over the chair.

"I miss you," he whispered. He picked up the wrap, and breathed in the scent.

_Vanilla. Yes. _

He held it for a minute, let his melancholy streak in.

Then the memories began.

And just as suddenly, he smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I promised you this, lovelies ;) However, I may not be able to update it as often I usually update my other fanfic, purely because this is second priority - A Cry In The Dark is my main fic right now. I hope you understand :) Other than that, enjoy!  
><strong>

**Lightning xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Bonsoir, mes amis. I do hope you're okay. I bring more!**

**XxxWeepingAngelsxxX - awww thank you dear :)**

**BeatnikFreak - :D**

**Jo Brookes - I love your love for this guy, it's awesome xD**

**padmay97 cheers darling :)**

**Shall we? ;)**

* * *

><p>He knew where she was, of course. Time Lords left distinctive patterns throughout the universe.<p>

And he was curious about her. He'd heard the stories, heard the rumours. The Renegade. The one who defied her masters for the love of a mortal girl.

A wry smile tugged at his lips as he adjusted his cravat. His shoulder length auburn hair was tied to the side, and a shining fob watch completed the ensemble. He admired himself, amusement arising at his vanity.

_Well, that was Philippe's doing._

Ah yes, his Parisian lover. Such an innocent boy… but that naivety had been extinguished once he had fallen into Deorsa's bed.

Now, Philippe du Longsais had money, status, and people waiting on him hand and foot.

Deorsa smiled, shaking his head.

_I really must stop doing that. Even if it is tempting. I can't help everyone I seduce. _

With a last glance at his attire, he donned his mask – simple black velvet. He walked to the doors of his TARDIS and, smirking, he left his beloved ship.

And strolled casually into the midst of the masquerade.

A servant passed by him with a tray, and leisurely Deorsa lifted a glass of champagne from it, sipping the liquid. The bubbles tickled his tongue, and he licked his lips as pleasure rolled through him.

Several women glanced at him, soft blushes staining their delicate faces. He smiled darkly, and winked. They fluttered their fans unashamedly, and inwardly he chuckled.

"Ladies," he greeted them smoothly as he passed. A pause, and then soft giggles erupted behind him as he went to lean against a doorway.

Usually he'd be tempted to flatter them, entertain their mentalities with thoughts of tangled bedclothes and caresses of skin, but not tonight. No.

He had a much bigger prize in mind.

And there she was.

Standing opposite him, dressed in soft green, was a woman. Her dark hair was elaborately styled, with a few curls escaping to frame her unblemished visage. She was dancing with a nobleman, and her smile was radiant.

Downing the last of his champagne, he set the glass on a nearby table.

The music ended, and the ballroom echoed with applause. The lord bowed, and, kissing her hand, he melted into the throng of people. She touched her face, clearly delighted, and she turned.

Instantly her eyes locked on Deorsa's. A slight flush crept up her cheeks, as if she recognised him.

And, to a certain extent, she did.

A smirk toyed with Deorsa's mouth.

_Hello_, he murmured. She inclined her head, as society here decreed, and he advanced towards her. He bowed, drinking every inch of her in.

"So far from home, mademoiselle," he marvelled, cocking his head in wonder.

"I could say the same about you," she answered calmly. He laughed – noting the delicious pink reaction it had upon her – and spoke.

"Might I enquire as to your name?"

She took his hand as the music struck up once more, and they began to dance.

"I am known as Ondine here," she answered, her cat-green eyes examining the masked stranger. "And you?"

"Aidan, my lady." He raised her up effortlessly, his hands tight on her waist as they spun. Her hearts squeezed as his gaze smouldered, and she smiled slightly.

"Well, Aidan… what, pray, brings you to France?"

He pulled her close, the music swelling between them, and his lips were inches from hers.

"You," he whispered.

Her lips curved.

"I know who you are, son of Rassilon. And I know your reputation."

"Ah, lady, you wound me!" he cried teasingly, hand to his left heart in a surprisingly human gesture. She grinned.

"Hardly. It takes more than verbal sparring to harm someone as spirited as you."

His eyebrow rose. "You presume to know me, mademoiselle."

Her lips pursed.

"Are you going to tell me you're tender, sir? Because judging by your attire and your air, I sincerely doubt you are."

His eyes glowed, and his fingers caressed her waist.

"You have much to learn, my dear," he murmured as he whirled her. "Perhaps wait before you make your verdicts, hmm?"

"Are you going to prove me wrong, monsieur?" she teased. He laughed.

"If you like. I know that I'll win."

It worked; she eyed him, assessing his words with a sharp intelligence. Finally, she spoke.

"I'll take the bet."

"Winner takes all?"

"But of course."

"Excellent." He pressed a swift kiss to her knuckles. "There's no time to waste then."

* * *

><p>Deftly he unlaced her corset, and his lips brushed her throat. She melted into his touch, and he spun her round, catching her mouth with his. His fingers pulled her corset away, and unbuttoned her skirt, letting it fall gracefully to the floor.<p>

He stared at her, her white skin, dark curls, piercing eyes.

_Delicious. _

He lifted her into his arms, their lips never parting, and he laid her gently on the four-poster. Gently he rubbed the red ridges that the corset had caused, and pressed tender kisses to them.

She caught hold of his cravat and pulled him down with her, and he knelt between her legs. His fingers traced up her thigh, and she sighed, her hands undoing his shirt and tearing it from him in her sudden frenzied need.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "A ghrá."

She smiled, and her eyes entranced him, emerald, shimmering.

He slid his trousers off, and leaned over her. Their mouths met in a blazing, sinful kiss, and his fingers delved deep within her. Ever the expert, he made her gasp against him, her back arching, her hands fisting in his hair. He teased her nipples with his tongue, and she began to cry out for him as the coil inside her tautened with every passing second. His soft laugh reverberated within her soul, like melted chocolate, and she couldn't breathe as his fingers sent her into storms of ecstasy. His lips trailed down her stomach, down lower, _lower_, and he lingered over that sensitive little nub. His tongue swept out to taste it, and she shouted his name, her thighs tightening around him, her hands digging into the mattress, her nails raking along the sheets.

_Oh, Rassilon, yes, please, please – _

_Now!_

He slammed into her, and she rocked with him as pleasure rode over both of them in waves. He thrust, the rhythm gaining pace, their hearts racing until, at last, with a hoarse cry and a vehement scream, they both plummeted into paradise.

They sighed against each other as the maelstrom subsided, and he rolled so that she lay on top of him, dazed in her rapture, their bodies still joined as one.

"Beautiful," he repeated wonderingly. She pressed a weary kiss to his chest, and his hand tangled in her hair. She nestled closer, and he wrapped his arms around her lithe form, perfectly at ease.

He wasn't liberating her any time soon, he realised. Oh, no.

_I'll never leave her. Never. She's mine. _

_ Yes, _she murmured sleepily._ I'm yours. _

He shut his eyes.

Somehow, in that heated passion, he'd both won and lost.

He opened his eyes to glance at her once more, and kissed her forehead.

From inside her, he could feel his own hearts beating.

She'd stolen them without a single thought.

"I win," she whispered, quietly triumphant, eyes still closed. "You owe me."

He smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I was in a lemony mood. Can you tell? ;)**

**Lightning xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello lovelies! I bring you more of Deorsa's tale! I suddenly thought the other day - this will probably be a longgggg story, owing to his considerable age. Hope you don't mind!**

**BeatnikFreak - ah, Dorian. What a delicious friend he is ;)**

**padmay97 - hehe :P**

**i-is-monstarr-RAWR - aww thankies!**

**kie1993 - cheers :D**

**Snowy702 - Yes, yes they do xD**

**Jo Brookes - you're welcome, my dear!**

**Here, have some moar... though fair warning, this gets quite dark...**

* * *

><p>They had to escape before the dawn. Ondine's eyebrows had shot into her hair when she discovered they'd spent the night in the master bedroom – and the owners of the manor were still up.<p>

"You are completely dissolute!" she hissed as he helped her lace her corset. He smirked, and spun her round.

"That wasn't what you told me two hours ago, love."

She smacked his chest with her glove, and he laughed.

They both finished dressing, and he held out his hand.

"Shall we?"

With an alluring smile, she took his hand, and together they walked out of the room and to the flight of stairs.

At which point he swung her up into his arms.

"Hey! What are you _doing_?"

"Oh, humour me, darling. You'd trip over in those heels, delightful though they are – and you'd seriously hurt yourself if you fell down these stairs. Call me shallow, but I'd prefer you kept your beauty intact."

He had descended the staircase as he spoke, and gently he set her down. He stroked her cheek, and she turned away.

"Who on earth are you?" a shrill voice sounded from the nearby doorway.

"Ah, madame!" Deorsa didn't miss a beat; he instantly swept the lady of the house a bow that would have made even married women swoon. "Forgive our intrusion; we were so distracted we did not realise that all of the other guests had taken their leave. Pray, what is the time?"

"Seven, sir." The woman's tone had eased considerably, and she eyed him hungrily, drinking in his tall stature and refined features. "I feel I do not know you; where are you from, monsieur?"

He smiled. "Not from these parts. Now, if you will excuse us, my wife and I must depart."

He took Ondine's hand, ignoring her shocked stare, and together they walked to a cupboard.

"Oh, and by the way… your master suite is magnificent. Very useful. Though I'm afraid your bed-linen… is in need of repair."

With a wink at the speechless lady, he gently tipped Ondine into the cupboard, and swiftly followed, closing the door behind him.

"Wife? _Wife_?" she fumed, glaring at him. "What makes you think you can say that? Hmm?"

"Oh hush." He slung his frock-coat over a chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves, loosening his cravat. "It was merely a lie to keep up appearances. She would have thrown us out if it had emerged we were unmarried and engaging in more than scandalous relations. Thus, I improvised. And delightful as you are, a ghrá, I am hardly seeking a Mate."

She arched an eyebrow at that.

"Oh really? So all that psychic 'She's mine' stuff last night does not count, eh? That was fairly fervent, if I might say." She marched up to him, eyes fiery. "And if I mean so little to you, Aidan, why then did you bring me in here?"

"A husband could not leave his wife without a chaperone, love. Again, appearances. I'll be happy to drop you on any planet you please."

She studied him, and she touched her lip.

"You won't."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you were looking for me. I saw that gleam in your eye last night. You've been searching for me. Why?"

He laughed softly. "Is a man not allowed to pursue a beautiful woman without there being an ulterior motive other than to ravish her?"

"You know who I am, Aidan. You know what your father did to me. Is that the reason for your curiosity? To see if the Renegade is a good lay? A good fuck?"

"Don't be coarse," he admonished her, his lip curling. "I would never treat you as such. I am not like that."

"I don't even know why I did it," she continued coldly. "I learnt never to trust your family."

"I am not him!" he roared. "I know what my father did. I know it nearly killed you. Did you not stop to think that the reason I was watching you was to see if you were alright?"

"Why would you care? You don't even know me!"

His eyes softened, and his voice quieted.

"I was there at your trial. I tried to make my father see reason, to let Emma go."

At the mention of her lover's name, she paled, and she backed away.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his expression remorseful. "I wish I could have saved her."

"Why didn't you?" she hissed.

"You know why. Don't ask me to clarify that."

"Just because they executed her there and then?" she half-screamed. "Is that it?"

Instinctively, he pulled her to his chest as she sobbed.

"Sshh," he murmured. "I'm here. You're safe. He cannot hurt you anymore."

She broke away, her eyes wide.

"But you don't understand," she whispered. "You say you know… but you don't."

She sank to the floor, and curled into herself, trembling.

Anxious, he knelt beside her, and spoke softly.

"Help me to understand. Please. What don't I know?"

"You wouldn't touch me again if you knew."

Thoroughly alarmed now, he forced himself to keep his voice steady.

"Just tell me, love."

Slowly, she turned her tearstained gaze to him.

She placed her forehead against his, hesitant as a rabbit caught in headlights.

They both shut their eyes.

* * *

><p>"You're a whore, girl. You cavort with humans! Filth!"<p>

"I love her," Ondine rasped. "You will never understand that, you unfeeling bastard."

Rassilon laughed softly. "You think me emotionless?"

"I know it."

His deceptively young face loomed over her, and she yelled as he grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her up against the wall.

"What is it about you, hmm?" he breathed, his indigo eyes glittering. "Why are they so attracted to you?"

His hand held her waist, and she squirmed.

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Get your hands off me."

He smirked, his indigo eyes glittering.

"No, I don't think so. I want to see what it is that makes them so… enticed by you."

She screamed as his fingers deftly tore the skirt from her hips, and he caught the hand she raised to hit him.

"Ah, ah, ah, my lovely. Let's not get violent, shall we?"

His body pressed her against the cold stone, and she gasped in horror as she felt him stir against her.

"No!" she shouted, her hearts racing in panic. "Don't you dare! _No_!"

* * *

><p>Deorsa abruptly withdrew, his eyes wide with shock, mentally unable to stand any more.<p>

"Oh good _gods_," he whispered. "_Ondine_."

"Now do you see?" she said brokenly. "Now do you understand?"

Wordlessly, he nodded.

"He broke me, Aidan. In every way he could. And it took me an age to recover. I'm still not there yet. And I'm sorry I spent the night with you. I should never have done that. I wasn't ready to."

Shakily, she got to her feet.

"Ondine."

She froze, and she closed her eyes at his next words.

"I am not my father. I am far better than he is or ever will be. I could never hurt you, never. Please, be aware of that."

She glanced back at him, and his cerulean eyes were tender.

"You may stay here if you wish. Or I can let you go wherever and whenever you please. It's your choice; I won't hold you to anything."

She bit her lip. She wanted to leave, oh _gods_, how she craved to run away from him. He was everything she feared.

And yet she wanted to stay. She could see the kindness in his eyes, a kindness she had not known for years. An easy gentleness that made her almost certain he spoke truth.

_But he's Rassilon's son. Flesh and blood. _

It made her falter.

"I… I can't."

She turned, and fled from him, into the bowels of the ship.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmm. Yes. Now you know why she hates Rassilon - yet another reason. I do hope it wasn't too dark for you. **

**Lightning xoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: general consensus: RASSILON YOU BASTARD.**

**My sentiments exactly...**

**BeatnikFreak - om nom nom Dorian xD I gives you MOAR!**

**XxxWeepingAngelsxxX - *hugs* you're a sweetie :)**

**i-is-monstarr-RAWR - yup, I concur...**

**padmay97 - yay!**

**kie1993 - ta dah! More! :D**

**Snowy702 - Cheers my dear :)**

**Jo Brookes - Yup, definite awkwardness there... :L**

**Mrs 11th - haha yeah it might :P Well, now you can find out :D**

**Onwards!**

* * *

><p>Deorsa watched as she ran, his hearts twisting.<p>

He felt sick at what she had borne.

He knew if he went after Ondine, it would only terrify her more.

_Doubtless what my father did. _

_ My father._

_ My father. _

_ He violated Ondine. _

_ He… he…_

He could hardly bear to think the words, and his skin crawled.

A surge of hatred flared.

"You bastard," he whispered. "You sick bastard."

In his mind, he could see Rassilon laughing, and angrily he pushed the image away.

_Did Mother know? Did you do the same to her?_

With horrific clarity, he suddenly saw it.

* * *

><p>He stood on the balcony, gazing out at the amber skies, when a voice, hurried, anxious, called to him.<p>

"My lord!"

He turned, and two guards were in the doorway, looking panicked.

"What is it?" he asked, his hearts jumping a little at their expressions.

"It's your mother. She…" one tailed off, uncomfortable.

Deorsa's hearts began to race.

"Where is she?"

"The West Chamber, my lord."

Without a breath, he sprinted past them and ran straight for the chamber.

He skidded inside – and his face drained of blood.

"No," he rasped. "No."

She lay sprawled on the floor, her clothes torn, her eyes wide.

His father knelt by her, distraught.

"Father, please," Deorsa whispered desperately. "She's not dead, she can't be, she –"

Rassilon looked at him, eyes full of grief.

"Somebody attacked her," he said, his voice a mere shadow of its usual resonance. "They meant to kill her. It was poison."

Deorsa fell to his knees. His hand touched his mother's cheek, and he bit back a cry of anguish.

She was ice cold.

He blinked back tears as he stared at her lifeless body.

"What poison?" he asked shakily.

"Judas tree," Rassilon murmured.

The held-back emotion broke free then.

"Mama," he wept. "Mama, please, please, please, wake up."

Rassilon placed a hand on Deorsa's shoulder, and his son looked at him brokenly.

"I know," Rassilon said softly.

They sat there, gazing at the beloved figure.

_I'm so sorry, Mama_. Deorsa closed his eyes. _I'm so sorry._

* * *

><p>He sank to the floor.<p>

"Her clothes were torn," he whispered. "He did it. He _meant_ to."

_Then his grief was a lie._

A wave of despair overcame him, and he trembled.

_They never found the killer. But he was right there all along. _

_ Why, Father? You loved her!_

He could find no reason.

His hearts tightened as a memory of his mother surfaced – smiling, laughing – and he pressed his forehead to the cool tiles of the floor.

_He wanted her to suffer_, he realised. _If he took such pleasure in torturing Ondine…_

His fingers clenched.

How badly he wanted to confront his father then, to scream his discovery to the whole of Gallifreyan society.

But he could not.

He risked Ondine's safety by doing so.

"No," he murmured. "If there's a chance he'll abuse her again… I can't."

_At least, not yet. _

With a grim twist of his lips, Deorsa got to his feet.

His thoughts turned to the frightened woman hiding deep within his ship, and instantly his dark resolve was replaced by worry.

_Where are you?_

He glanced at the console.

_Where is she?_

The TARDIS soothed him, but gently rebuked him. He glanced away.

"I know. She'll emerge when she's ready."

Merriment that did not belong to him rolled through his consciousness. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why so amused?"

If she had had a mouth, she would have teased him mercilessly.

It hit him, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"No, I am not getting attached. I don't need her. I'm alright without her."

Scepticism.

He groaned, his hands covering his face.

"Will you stop matchmaking? For five minutes? _Please_?"

The TARDIS hummed her version of laughter, and grudgingly he let his mouth curve up.

"I know you worry, sweetheart. I know you don't like how I live my life. But it's my choice. I won't let one girl change it, no matter what the circumstances are."

Shock pulsed.

His eyes widened at her insinuation.

"No! _No_! Of _course_ I want to help her! I wouldn't leave her like this! How could I? I'm no monster; I'm _nothing_ like _him_."

Satisfaction.

He sighed.

"I don't know why I put up with you sometimes. You're worse than most of my relatives."

The TARDIS hummed once more, entertained by that plainly ridiculous notion.

He laughed quietly, and stroked the central core casing tenderly.

"You're only looking out for me, I know. I appreciate it, sweetheart."

Warmth enveloped him, and he smiled.

A pad and a pen materialised on the seat beside him, and he patted the rim of the console.

"Thanks."

He settled himself on the chair, and – after spinning round in it once to collect his thoughts – began to compose his message.

It was thirty-three minutes before he finished, and he tore the sheet of paper out, flipping the pad shut and clicking the pen.

He rose, and went to seek out the girl who so mystified him.

The TARDIS, though wanting to keep Ondine feeling protected, let Deorsa sense the Time Lord's presence – only a brief yet tangible thread of consciousness. She kept the door locked however, knowing Ondine desired privacy.

He did not mind. He simply slipped the note under the door and walked away, content to let Ondine emerge whenever she wished.

* * *

><p>Ondine knew Deorsa was there. She could feel him, just as he could feel her.<p>

She watched the folded message appear through the gap, and a rush of curiosity pervaded her mind.

_What could he possibly have to say…?_

She listened to the fading of his footsteps, and then she leapt over to the door, snatching up the note.

It was then she stalled.

Her fingers trembled as she eyed the soft cream colour of the paper.

_Do I?_

_ Do I trust him?_

Hesitantly, she unfolded it, the spidery writing facing the floor.

She inhaled, and flipped it over.

_If you would prefer to leave, I would not hold it against you. What my father did is inexcusable, and I understand how my ties to him make you uncomfortable. _

_The console is yours to use. Go wherever you will. _

_A_

The paper was scrunched up and thrown across the room before she was even aware of it.

Because deep down she did not want to leave. No. He radiated calm, honesty, something she craved.

Slowly, she got to her feet, and her fingers closed on the doorknob. Cold metal, but it felt hot to her.

She sighed, and pulled the door open.

She walked silently down the corridor, her bare feet making no sound upon the cool floor.

She came to the archway of the console room, and she paused.

He was standing there, his back to her. His long auburn hair hung like a russet curtain down his back, and a urge came to her, an urge to run her fingers through it.

As if she was being lured by an unseen force, she took a step forwards.

He turned, and his eyes were soft.

"I… I want to stay," she whispered.

His eyes widened ever so slightly.

"Are you… certain?"

She nodded. "Yes. But… I want to know if I can trust you."

He quickly masked his hurt at her bluntness; he knew she was only saying what she needed to.

"All right. Thank you."

Her expression remained cautious, and, in a tentative tone that felt alien to his usual arrogant self, he spoke.

"Dinner?"

She relaxed a little.

"I'd like that."

He smiled slightly. "Good. Any preferences?"

"Whatever you like."

He inclined his head. "Very well. Might I suggest, while I cook, that you change into something more comfortable?"

She appraised him, searching for any cruel intent. Finding none, she relented.

"I... can do that."

Once more, he gestured. "Wardrobe is down the corridor and to your left. Feel free to choose whatever steals your fancy."

She gazed at him for another second, and then walked away, retracing her steps down the passageway.

He leant back against the console, and exhaled.

"What am I doing?"

Shaking his head, he rolled up his sleeves and headed for the kitchens.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there you have it. Baby steps. I bet you were all expecting to be thrown headlong into passion, huh? :P**

**Lightning xoxo**


End file.
